Oblivion
by Yamitron
Summary: Yami Marik and Yami Bakura have never had need to be acquainted with fear. A run in with Scarecrow will change that. Horror, rated for graphic gore and brief language.


**[[A/N:** Hello, all. This is a YuGiOh/Batman crossover story, featuring Yami Marik, Yami Bakura, and Scarecrow (Dr. Jonathan Crane). I started with Yami Marik's point of view, but it shifts throughout the story. This is my first attempt at horror without comedy, so I hope I did well. I own neither Batman nor YuGiOh, if I did, there would be a season with both of them together.

Light Psychoshipping mentions, more focusing on YuGiOh, off cannon. To those who read my stories and know my characters: I have taken a new spin this time. I have removed the cuddly aspect and outlined the dark side of each character. Sorry! Enjoy, please review!**]]**

For all of my life, I never delt with fear. I rarely felt it, and when I did, I quickly saught a way to over come and destroy it. I feared little. What had I to fear; I inspired it, created it, not faced it. A single decible of my laughter can send a grown man into shivers. A glance at my appearance can make a child cry. Inspiring fear is like nothing else I can think of. There is nothing quite equate to the feeling of power that courses through one's veins at the knowledge that people will do whatever you want to avoid incurring more of that which they dread.

As I said, my appearance alone can make children and weaker men cry. The wild ferocity in which I carry myself is foreboding to say the least. My lips are often curled into a snarl, exposing my white and deadly teeth. My blond hair spikes upwards and in all directions, save for my bangs, which hang in my face. I am tall, of medium muscle build. I wear dark sleeveless shirts which cover my heirogliphics adorned back. Cargo pants on my legs to carry my preferred weaponry such as shruikens, pocket knives, and a lighter. My favourite, ever-present dark purple cape hangs around my shoulders, billowing even when there is no wind. My forearms and just below my shoulder are wrapped in golden bands which shine blindingly in the sun. I suppose I look weaker than I am; some have even tried to attack me. In vain of course, I have yet to be over taken. My skin is dark, tan, nearly unnoticable in the dark. And, lastly, my eyes. My large, always narrowed, deep amethyst eyes, capable of boreing into your very soul, framed at the edges on both by two scarrification tattoos of an almost sideways V shape that etched into my cheekbones. All in all, I am not a man to tangle with.

My name is Marik.

Some of you who are reading my words are on a misinformed path, expecting what will not come. This is not a story of how I am feared and secretly strive for love or acceptance, inevitably giving up my life of torturing and murder to settle into a normality fused together, makeshift existence with a romantic companion. Those stories make me sick. However cruel I am in appearance and nature, even _I _know that human beings are not capable of existing on a fully functioning basis without companionship. So I have surrounded myself with those who share or tolerate my thinking patterns and way of actions. Three friends and a lover are all I need to function at maximum efficiancy, so I can continue and carry on in my sadistic and psychotic ways.

My life was perfect. Exactly what I needed and wanted. No more, no less. Fear was not present and had no reason to be. Until my story starts, when I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, as annoyingly cliché and sickeningly predictable that is.

Rain poured down, soaking the other and I as we walked together down dingy alley ways. We were grateful for it, unlike the idiots around us who ran for cover. I stuck my hand out, watching as the rain washed away the blood that had coated it. I had managed to seduce a young woman at a bar where I had ordered a drink, and I lured her into the alleyway. We had taken turns slicing her torso and piercing the organs within, before I was tired of her screams and slit her throat to silence her. The woman deserved it, drunken fool that she was. We left the body abandoned and set off, adrenaline and power coursing through us, nearly giddy with the high that murder leaves one with.

I tilted my head back, drenching my hair, flattening and making my spikes limp. I didn't care much at the moment, more contented with the feeling of moisture on my skin and the cooling feeling it brings. To my side, my companion's hair flattened as well, making his already long hair longer still, reaching most of the way down his back. His trench coat and jeans blended in almost completely to the dark walls surrounding us, which would have been nice camouflage if it weren't for the ghostly pale skin of his hands, face, and neck, or the shimmeringly white hair of his that dripped the rain water down his slightly flushed cheeks. His eyes shifted colours, but at the moment they were as crimson as the blood that pooled in our wake. In appearance, we were as odd looking together as the sun and the moon would be side by side, but somehow it blended harmoniously.

I discretely brushed my hand against his, checking his temperature, hiding my own shivers. His hand was freezing, a result of the chilly air and the rain that I began to notice more and more. Unconsciously placing a hand on the small of his back, I leaned in so he could hear me above the pattering rain around us and said, "Cold. Let's go inside somewhere, at least to dry. House's too far by foot." A curt nod in response told me I was understood and the plan was accepted.

Slinking out ahead, I searched for a nondescript building, and one that would most likely have heat and an area to wait for the rain to stop. I spotted one that looked like it would suffice, and waved him over to me, signaling for him to follow as I kicked the door in and held it open, quickly reshutting it once we were both inside.

We were surrounded by white, grey, and powder blue colours, slick patterned tile covering the walls, ceiling, and floors. A hallway stretched out in front of us, white of course with the powder blue rimming the sides like a pathway. To the side of the doorway to the hall was an unattended reception desk, unlit. I smelled lemon and felt instantly claustrophobic in the open, nearly empty, brightly lit white room. It was unnatural. Suspiciously clean and deserted. Too perfect of a place.

I scowled and threw off my soaking wet cape, slinging it over my arm. He did the same with his trenchcoat, his free hand twitching to his hair. I know he felt the same as I did; wanting to dry and wring our clothing, but for some reason put off doing so by the unnatural feeling the building gave us.

My eyes narrowed further as I once again surveyed the room, knowing nothing had changed, but still looking about. "Well," I said, annoyance filling my voice as I turned to face my companion. " At least it's dry and warm."

He hummed in agreement and placed a hand on the wall nearest him. "I... Don't like it. It doesn't feel right. I think we might be better outside. We could make it back."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I considered. "Hn. …I suppose you're right. I get that feeling too. It's unnatural here, even by my standards. Let's just-"

"Hello there?" A voice quietly said from behind us. I turned my head in the direction of the noise, not giving the speaker the gratification of facing him fully or giving him eyecontact. My defenses normally would have me already pinning him to the wall, knife in hand, but the voice was nonthreatening; eerily calm and inquisitive. I felt no alarm, only annoyance. "Who are you?"

"Gone is who we are. We were leaving. Good bye." My companion, Bakura, sneered at the new comer.

"Gentlemen, there's no reason to leave. It's pouring. I assume that would be why you came in to my little place of business to begin with. The least I can do is offer you towels and some place to sit down; my waiting room is terribly underfurnished." His voice was caring and soothing, which would have put most instantly at ease. It was a voice one might hear on massage therapy tapes; calming and gentle.

I faced him finally and glared. He was a man of medium height, with light brown hair, shaggily hanging about his face as though he hadn't remembered to trim it recently. His glasses shielded his greenish grey eyes, which were crinkled at the edges in a polite smile. His face overall wasn't… unpleasant. Neither was it inviting. It was simply…. Complacent. A white lab coat hung limply and tiredly around his collared shirt and slacks, his outfit was grey and nondescript. A plain man. One who, to the normal eye, would say "Don't Look at Me" or "All is Well." if you looked closely. To my eyes, he emitted the slight aura that I myself emitted. The aura, of untrustworthiness.

"I am Dr. Jonathan Crane. I'm embarrassed to say that my secretary Bethany isn't here to escort you to the proper waiting room, but she took the night off. Please, come with me, we will talk further there. You are most welcome." He smiled pleasantly while speaking.

I looked back at Bakura who raised an eyebrow at me and then rolled his eyes. This nonverbal communication simply meant, _'What an idiot.'_ Which I agreed with. A corner of my mouth twitched downwards and I frowned slightly, saying _'I know. I'm not sure about this. But I'm fucking exhausted and cold. What do you want to do.'_ He thought for a moment and sighed. "Fine." He said, walking forward, standing slightly in front of me to address Crane. "Towels. Blankets."

Crane's smile grew slightly. "Of course, gentlemen. If you'll follow me." He said, turning on his heel and almost silently gliding down the hallway we hadn't heard him enter from. I growled slightly in the back of my throat, and we followed him a small ways behind.

The hallway was just as sickeningly clean as the lobby was. Sparkling white and lemon scented, I shivered and tensed, feeling uneased. Reaching a hand out to gently graze the walls, I noticed it was still slightly damp as if it had been recently cleaned and cleaned thoroughly. With a place this cleanly kept, I couldn't think why it would need a vigorous cleansing.

We soon came upon doors on either side of the hallway. They were made of very thick wood, with small windows at the top. The windows were tinted, one way viewers, only allowing those on the inside to see outward. This perplexed me, as surely the opposite would be more common. There were no markers to say what was on the opposite side of the doors, each one identical and nondescript.

Suddenly a piercing shriek echoed through the hallway, causing me to immediately freeze in place. I had induced my share of screams in my life, but never had I heard such a terror laced death screech. The pitch of it caused it to reverberate about the place, echoing when it had long since stopped. I shivered and looked to Bakura, who wore an identical expression of "_What the fuck was that…_"

Crane marched onward, unphased by the shriek. He hummed slightly to himself as he went onward, finally reaching a door with no windows at all. He turned back to face us, noticing that we were stopped a long disance back. He smiled tiredly and beckoned us over. "I apologize. Some of my patients are a little resistant to treatment."

My eyes, which had widened at the scream, narrowed once again. I didn't move. "What sort of doctor are you, did you say?"

"I'm a psychologist, specializing in human fear patterns and psychosis. If I may be frank, another reason to my inviting you in, besides general hospitality, is I thought I might speak to you. Please come in." He said, holding the door open and offering a hand to us.

I clenched my fists. I did not like this. While it explained the demeanor of the place and the scream, and I scanned his words mentally for lies and found none, I just couldn't trust this man. I could tell my companion felt the same by his stance and set jaw. Without a word, I began to turn around to head back out, when without warning, a loud crash sounded and the lights went out.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins again, ready to fight or run, and I grabbed Bakura's arm. Not out of fear, but to be certain neither of us would be dragged off through the closed doors or by the man my distrust for grew with every passing moment.

The lights flickered back on after a few seconds, light flooding the hallway blindingly once again. I didn't let go of his arm and growled, turning around once again to face Crane. He had somehow in the few seconds the lights were out, silently crept up to us again, standing only three feet away. I glared and growled at him once again. He extended his hand. "This is no weather to leave. If you would rather not talk, I'm not going to force it on you."

I snarled, inexplicably feeling coldness creep about, the temperature plummeting, and I began shivering profusely. I was not happy with this, clearly we would get sick or become injured should we leave, and I was not keen on taking care of injuries for a few days. Dragging Bakura by the arm and glaring at Crane, I shoved my way into the door he had previously geastured towards.

The smell of lemon and overt cleanliness instantly vanished, replaced by a curious smell I can't quite describe. It smelled like cold morning mist and…. Grey. Nothing specifically grey, but if the colour had a smell, it would smell like this. The room was mediumly lit, enough to see the chairs and blankets, but not the outskirts of the room. It gave a feeling of being watched from the shadows, as if there were something just visable in the periphery of your vision.

I stopped two feet in, my back tensing and muscles locking. The grip I had on Bakura's arm intensified, and I suddenly didn't know if I was even capable of letting go of him anymore. He showed no complaints, taking the room in as well and moving infentismally closer to me, probably unconsciously. Neither of us were sure about this, instantly regretting walking into this building at all.

This all passed in a matter of seconds, and we didn't even notice the door close behind us.

I kept my hand around his arm and we walked forward to the chairs hesitantly, not quite knowing why we were so uneasy about such a simple room. The lights suddenly dimmed more once we reached the chairs, forcing us to sit else we lose our sense of bearings. It was then that Bakura noticed Crane wasn't in the room. He nudged me and I looked up, a growl forming in my throat once again at having been tricked into this room that sent an involuntary shiver up my spine.

As I was about to speak, a voice sounded through the room, originating from everywhere at once. "Hello again, gentlemen." It was that same voice, Crane's, but it was now distorted. Gravelly and low, the now cruel sounding voice had a layer under it of an octave lower, giving the impression of one voice from two mouths. My lips curled upwards in a menacing snarl that no one could see.

"Where are we." Bakura demanded angrily, gripping the arm of his chair.

"Expirament room B." the voice replied with mocking amusement. "You're about to take part in the first human testing of my newest drug."

"You really think we'll be taking anything you give us, Crane?" I asked sarcastically, growing more angry by the second.

"You've already taken it." His voice said matter-of-factly, the amusement in his voice growing more noticable. "Do not call me 'Crane' in my world. I am Scarecrow."

"What is this, some sort of childish supervillian-wannabe's evil scheme? _'Scarecrow'?_" Bakura snarled, fangs flashing in the dim light.

I smirked. "What do you mean we've already taken it? We haven't taken a damn thing."

"My drug is flowing through you as we speak, filling you, toying with your mind. You breathed it in the moment your feet crossed the threashold." He spoke in a playing tone, as one might talk to a child. "I know of you two, Marik and Bakura." My eyes widened an infentesimal amount, surprised. No one knew our names or of anything we did, and we certainly didn't tell this lunatic. "You frighten and maim many. Just like me. Your nature interests me. You seem to enjoy your existence of causing insurmountable suffering in others. While I commend this, I thought it would be an excellent premise for testing my new drug on. The effects were delayed intentionally. When it starts the effects, is up to me."

We remained silent. Stunned. And the unfamiliar feeling I had so rarely felt before began to worm its way into my consciousness. Fear.

"Your innermost torments and miseries are about to become painfully real to you. You are about to experience terror like you've never before thought of. What you have caused in others will feel like a pleasant dream. I now control your surroundings and senses. You are in my world, now."

Laughter echoed through the room, and the voice ceased. The lights in the room went out, and everything was plunged into utter darkness. I couldn't see anything, and the only sound I heard was my heart beating in my ears. Without my ability to sense what was around me either by sight or hearing, my sense of smell heightened, and the smell of the room was all the more apparent. It filled my lungs, and I could feel as it seeped out of them, into the rest of my body, swirling in my brain. I became dizzy and more disoriented, my grip on Bakura's arm past the bruising point. Panic and fear took over my mind, giving rational thought no place to be.

The lights went back on as unexpectedly as they went out, blinding light replacing darkness, causing my eyes to become so pained I had to squint to see. In the room there was nothing. No movement in the periphery like I had expected, nor windows like I felt. I furrowed my brow in confusion, and looked over to Bakura to ask what was going on.

Or I would have, had he been sitting there.

My arm was gripping the arm rest of the chair. Funny how I hadn't even felt him move or my grip change. I blinked and looked around, the panic that had ebbed away slightly coming back. What had Crane done with him? I let go of the chair and stood, my clothes now dry. Putting this oddity out of my mind, I surveyed the room again, not finding him. "Bakura?" I called, glaring around, searching. "Where are you?"

"Out here!" His voice called from the other side of the door that had been locked. I was suspicious, but glad to know he could hear me. I approached the door and rested my palm against it, feeling the unnatural coldness it emminated.

"How did you get out there? The door's locked." I said lowly, tilting my head down and resting my forehead against the door.

"No it isn't, it's open. Come on out." He called back, just outside, but growing fainter with each word.

"Why did you leave without me? I didn't even feel that you left." I desparately wanted to believe that was really him, because where else would he be? But he wasn't usually this vague and impulsive on situations like this. He would usually plan, or at least take me with him. It didn't make sense.

"C'mon! We've got to get out of here, now! We can talk later about it, let's go!" His voice kept receding, clearly moving away.

I couldn't help myself, even if I was suspicious, I couldn't let him leave without me. I wrenched open the door and looked around. The hallway was the same as I remembered it, blindingly white and lemon scented, long and unsettling. Looking for him, I found Bakura a short distance away, walking swiftly away with his back to me. Confused, I hurried after him, calling his name to try and get him to wait up. "We've got to go!" was all he would say, not even turning to look at me.

The faster I ran, the faster he went, never letting me catch up to him. What was more, the hallway we ran along never seemed to end. What had taken us two minutes to walk down, was now stretching on seemingly endlessly, without changing. I ran my hardest, and passed the same doors over and over, the door at the lobby seeming only to get further away.

I growled in frustration. What was going _on_ here? I slowed, resting my hand on the wall and walked, realizing that running would do no good. As soon as my mind settled on that fact, the lights began to flicker, plunging me into darkness with flashes of light once every few seconds. My heart leapt into my throat, panic once again returning. Through the flashes, I saw Bakura's ever retreating back, nearing the door that had stopped moving away from me.

The flashes of light grew less frequent, and I flattened myself against a wall to maintain balance and a sense of awarence in my surroundings. As I watched around me, the walls began shifting colours in between lights, growing darker and purple hued, white growing to grey and blue growing to deep purple. Mesmerized by the colour shifting, I barely noticed when dark shapes began to form along the walls, inching their way slowly down.

The figures, once I took full notice of them, seemed to be running from invisible holes in the ceiling, down the walls from all sides, and over to me. Not being afraid of bugs, I sneered, raising my foot to stomp on them. I felt some crawling on my skin, and I absently smacked my arm, trying to get them to leave me and drop off. The incessent crawling didn't stop, so I looked at my arm during the flashes.

My arm bands were somehow missing. I felt the weight as though they were there, and yet no golden bonds encircled them. Instead, medium sized insects crawled about, and I tried to brush them off. The lights stopped flickering and remained on, allowing me a better look at my skin. The bugs I felt crawling on my skin were instead_ underneath my skin_, worming their way throughout and slithering through my veins and muscles. I cried out in horror and smacked at my arms, feeling the bugs scatter and multiply. They joined together in a piling in the middle of my arm and, unthinking, I dug my teeth into it, ripping into the skin and tearing at it. The skin came off and into my mouth, the blood gushing around me and down my arm. The bugs did not crawl out, instead moving deeper inside of me.

They oozed along my body; starting at my arms and legs and moving along my organs to my torso and chest, enveloping my lungs. I could feel their worming in my lungs as I inhaled, and crawling up my esophogus when I exhaled. I blindly threw my arms out to try and dislodge them, feeling my crimson blood pool around me and drip along my clothing.

The bugs reached into my head, scattering through my brain. They ate at the back of my eyeballs and scurried in my ears. The ones inside of my stomach and lungs quickly forced their way up and out of my mouth, running along my tongue and across my face. I screamed loudly, scratching my face and drawing blood, spattering myself in blood from my face and arm.

My scream died, echoing about the hallway. The lights flashed out, once again shrouding me in absolute darkness. The bugs ran their course, rushing out of me through my mouth, disappearing back into the walls. Lights came back on revealing nothingness. The hallway was neat, clean, and back to its original colouring, save for the crimson spatters along the wall and floor from my arm which still oozed its liquid. I clutched my head and slid down the wall, sobbing dryly from panic and overwelming terror.

I was so confused. Crane's words echoed in my mind._ 'I now control your surroundings and senses. You are in my world, now.' _His world… He's fucking with my mind… I couldn't be sure what was real and what wasn't. The cearing pain I felt in my arm was certainly real, as was the throbbing headache and absolute horror washing through me. But was I just hallucinating? I gritted my teeth and could still taste the metallic blood along with the salty taste of fear. They tasted bitter.

"Marik-!" Bakura's voice echoed down the hall, and I looked up in time to see him being dragged out of the front door.

"Bakura!" I called, ripping myself from my confused stupor and running at full sprint down the hallway, trapsing blood as I went. I ignored all pain and common sense; needing at least to be with someone through the terror. The hallway did not run from me this time, and I quickly reached the ending. I yanked at the door; it wouldn't budge. I yelled in anger and stepped back a ways, throwing myself shoulder first into the hard wood. It splintered at the edges and I kicked with all my might, shattering the glass and breaking the lock. I kicked again and it swung open, revealing to me the street in which I had been walking previously.

Panting, I ran outside, looking in all directions for where he might possibly have gone. I glanced down the alleyway we had come from, seeing a glimpse of white locks and black coat disappear along a corner. I gasped and ran hard, desparation enveloping me.

As I rounded the corner, I began to notice how nothing felt quite right. I put this feeling into the back of my mind; all that mattered was catching up to him. Rain still pounded from the sky, soaking me, my hair getting in my eyes. I shook my head like a dog as I ran, feeling rain drops washing the blood that never seemed to clot down my face.

I bounded down the alley, only able to snag glimpses of him as he quickly weaved his way through the labrynth. Suddenly an agonized cry caught my attention. I wouldn't have paid any attention, had the voice not been as familiar as it was. "MARIK!" The voice sobbed out in utter torment, breaking at the end of the cry.

Skidding to a stop, I quickly looked around, searching for the source of the voice. Calling down from an alleyway that jutted out from the one I was on, I followed the sound of Akefia's voice, eyes straining to see him. I wanted to find Bakura, but Akefia sounded in desparate need.

A bright light glowed from just beyond my sight at the last corner, presumably, of the alley. I heard crackling and smelled the disgusting smell of burning flesh and hair, and practically threw myself around the corner.

In a cage in front of me, Akefia and Ryou were kneeling, screeching in torment. Flames completely engulfed them, unaffected by the pouring rain. They clutched at the bars of the cage, and upon seeing me, they reached their arms out, beckoning. "HELP US!" They screamed.

I couldn't even respond. My mouth dropped open and my knees grew weak, I had to clutch at the wall so as not to collapse. The flames licked at them, not seeming in any hurry to finish their job. The tormented, tear streaked faces looking at me cried out for help, and I did the first thing I thought of. I wrenched myself off and tried to grab hold of the bars, or their hands. Their bodies slipped out of my grasp and the bars burned my hands severely. I cried out and fell backwards, clutching my hand, staring up at them in anguish, knowing there was nothing I could do.

Their outstretched hands began to melt, skin sickineningly dripping off, revealing veins and muscles, which too began to slide off the bones. Their screeches intensified, reverberating into my very soul. With a pained face, I watched their skin seep off of their arms, the bones somehow able to move still without vital muscles or ligaments. They looked at me, eyes full of pain, as their faces began to slowly melt away. "Why, Marik? Why won't you save us?" Ryou asked, voice heart-wrenchingly pained, as though each word cost him part of his very life.

"We're nothing to you, aren't we. You _want_ us to die." Akefia said accusingly, hatred clear in his eyes. That was the last expression he would ever make. His eyes melted into his head, and a death scream ripped it's way out of his throat, Ryou doing the same as they both finally collapsed, singed and burned, life at last mercifully leaving them.

I sank to my knees, hand out on the ground, ignoring the amount of pain shooting through me for it. It was my fault. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help them. Throwing my head back, I yelled loudly and with all of my being, knowing I could never erase what I had just seen from my mind.

"Marik-" Bakura's voice called from behind me, and I whipped around in time to see him reaching for me, on the ground, clutching to the wall with his hands. He was being dragged away, and couldn't hold on any longer, protestings rendered useless.

I scrambled to my feet as best I could, still shaky and distraught, running after him. I saw him once more dragged around the corner by some unseen force, and what little adrenaline I had left pumped through me. I was _not _going to let him die, too.

Growing woozy from blood loss (would they EVER clot shut?) I stumbled a few times in my persuit, extending my bloodied arm out as if it would help me to reach him faster. I rounded the corner and saw him.

He lay crumpled on the ground, alone, unmoving. I shouted his name, pain in my voice. I couldn't even bear to begin thinking what might have happened, my only thought was that I _had _to get to him.

Sinking to my knees at his back, I rolled him over so I could look at him. "Bakura… Bakura, answer me." I said, reaching his head around to look at me. What I saw caused my voice to die in my throat.

His heart lie a short distance away, ripped sloppily out of his chest so blood and innards trailed along behind it. Scratches adorned his chest, his shirt ripped and thrust open. But the worst of it was his face. Gone. Completely gone. The skin ripped off, the entire front of his skull, missing. All there was was the hinges of his jaw, and the back half of his brain, oozing blood in a large puddle around us.

Unable to even scream anymore, I felt what I had never felt before. Tears welled in my eyes and slowly, one by one, dripped down my face. I clutched his corpse tightly to me, unwilling to ever let go. The only things that really mattered to me, ripped from me all at once. A mixed sensation of terror and agony I had never before felt engulfed me, and I sank into the darkness it brang, whispering their names on my lips.

(( Point of View switch. You are now reading from Bakura's point of view. ))

"Your innermost torments and miseries are about to become painfully real to you. You are about to experience terror like you've never before thought of. What you have caused in others will feel like a pleasant dream. I now control your surroundings and senses. You are in my world, now."

Laughter echoed through the room, and the voice ceased. I scowled, angry that I didn't understand what was going on. Marik's grip on my arm relented, and I looked over at him. His expression was blank, void of all emotions. The lights flickered on and off. "Marik, what's going on?" I asked him, my eyes narrowed and looking about. He didn't answer me, so I took that as not knowing either. I stood, beckoning him to stand with me. He obeyed, still expressionless.

I walked forward, my back to the chairs, and examined the wallpaper. "The light trick is growing old, Crane. Knock it off." I muttered, not to be fooled with tricks of the lights. With as long as I've lived, very little scares me. I was not about to let some idiot doctor play foolish mind games with me.

"Um… Bakura? … I think you should look at this…" Marik's voice sounded from across the room, uncertain.

"Hm?" I said, turning to look at him. He was standing at the edge of the room, looking out at the last thing I would ever think to see. My first home. I joined him at the edge of the room, standing on a cliff, looking out to the night time cloaked village of Kul Elna.

I couldn't even speak. I was stunned into silence, watching the candle lights flickering in distant windows and the sand billow about the outskirts of the town. As we stepped forward, out of the armchair room and into the desert, our modern clothes faded away to the ancient dress. I, once again, wearing my red cloak and brown tunic, covered in gold. I grinned, surveying myself, and looked to Marik. He was peering curiously at himself, white tunic with red trim covering upper thighs, leaving his chest bare, save for the assortment of golden necklaces draping about him. His armbands remained, and a Millennium Eye crown peeked out of his golden hair.

My grin widened, thoroughly confused and yet not caring. "This is where I was born…" I said, once again looking out at the village.

"The one that went up in flames?" Marik asked, beside me. I could feel his eyes on me and my expression hardened.

"Yeah. That one… Come on." I grabbed his arm and jumped down with him from the cliff, expertly landing on the sand. He landed more clumsily, inexperienced. I sniggered and looked around, longing to look through my village once again.

If Crane was controlling my senses, he was doing a pretty poor job of inspiring fear into me. I lived through the destruction of my people and my village. I lived 5,000 years, seeing their scorched faces in my mind repeatedly. There was nothing that he could show me that I haven't tortured myself with already, here. I am numb. Do your worst, Crane.

I left Marik behind in my haste to look about my home again. I flattened myself to a stone wall and listened to a conversation a man was having with his wife. I heard a child in the background, banging some metal object on the hard ground, striking up a rhythm with it. I listened closely, and the ancient dialect came flooding back to me, each word spoken was crystal clear to me.

"Are you alright, dear? What's the matter, you look shaken."

"It's probably nothing." A heavy bag was set down on presumably a table, and I closed my eyes to better hear the words spoken. "I saw what looked like a bunch of men walking their way here. Maybe it was just a raid come back but, I can't help but feel uneasy…"

A hand on my shoulder brought me back to my mind, and I, reverting to my ancient instincts, flinched away from it to look at whoever it was. Marik was not looking at me, but his arm was outstretched, as if to quietly gain my attention. I waved him off, silently telling him to stop.

Not wanting to hear more of the conversation of what I knew was coming, I walked into the empty street. Dirty, dark, candles lighting houses, golden sparkles seen within. Home. A smirk twitched on the edges of my lips as I surveyed the place. I turned back to gesture for Marik to come join me, so I could walk about, but he was gone. Annoyed, I doubled back to see where he went off to.

Leaving the street, I shuffled the dirty barely paved side street to where we had come, glaring and looking for him. I spotted him atop a nearby cliff, not where we came in, and a good distance away from the town. I scowled and followed the way, shouting at him. "Marik, come on, get down here." I was not pleased, and made no secret about it in my tone.

He didn't move. "I'm not playing around. Get your ass down here. Now." The only response I received was a wave to come up there, and his retreating back facing away from me.

Now thoroughly pissed off, I climbed the cliff with precision, swiftly reaching the top. Standing up, I looked around, my eyes narrowed into an irritated glare. "Marik, where-"

Standing a short distance away, straight up and stiff, he did not move, nor show any sign that he heard me. "Come _on_." I said, growling and approaching him. He still was unchanging, so I walked around to glare at him in the face.

I stomped in front of him, expecting his face expressionless or worried or… there. Where his face should have been was just more hair, an identical copy of what the back looked like. I took a step back, confused and agitated. I walked around a full circle, him never changing. I extended out a hand to touch his shoulder, just to see if he would move.

The form began to blow away like sand starting at the top and working its way down; disappearing as a knocked down sandcastle. My eyes widened, yet still narrowed into a glare, I watched the sand congregate into a solid black, shapeless mass. It quickly swirled about, twisting in the wind and heading for me.

I turned and began to ran, uncaring what the form used to be, more pressed about its current state. I didn't know what it would do to me if it caught up with me, but I certainly wasn't about to find out. I ran hard, as fast as I could, planning on heading back to the village, but it was too fast for me. Within 10 meters it caught up, landing in front of me, causing me to skid to a hault lest I run headfirst into it. It slowly expanded, arching over me, covering all escape routes. The last thing I glimpsed was the moon, blood red, as the darkness folded in around me.

My heart beat faster, growing panicked. I quickly forced it to change to rage, furious at the happenings and confused. I was in pitch blackness; I even raised my hand in the air and saw nothing in front of me. I growled. "What's going on."

"You Failed."

I staggered back a half step, completely caught off guard. Coming from all places at once echoed the voice of a deity you certainly do not want to be on the bad side of. Not sure where to look, my eyes grew wider still, irises virtually nonexistant. "Z-…Zorc?"

"You Failed." The voice repeated.

I looked around, trying to see something; anything. "I di- wh-" I couldn't even form coherent sentences in this shocked state.

"You Failed, and so first, you must watch."

A pair of bright red eyes with black pupils glared forboding at me from where ever I looked, and a powerful wind gusted over me. I shielded my face with crossed forearms, unable to open my squeezed shut eyes for the strength of the air moving around me.

When I was finally able to open my eyes, I immediately gasped, throwing my arms out to the side. I was high above the city in the bottom of an hourglass, sand quickly dropping on my head and beginning to fill the enclosure. I braced myself on the sides of the glass, waiting to plummet, but nothing happened. I looked up to the sky as best I could without getting sand in my eyes, and saw nothing around me. Having no other choice, I gazed downward, in time to see the soldiers' march into my village. They marched in fast, brandishing spears, swords, and of course, torches.

My expression hardened further, knowing what I was about to see. The soldiers threw burning sticks into houses, driving out the inhabitants. As they scurried about the city in disarray, the armed men would come through and slaughter whomever they saw. I watched as their blood spilt once again; a people now lost to the sands of time, which ironically dripped on my head with precsion.

The screams echoed up to me, and I almost had to shut my eyes, memories flooding. I saw the smaller version of myself running about, hiding behind the alley wall. Not a long distance away were my parents, skewered and set ablaze. I felt a pull of my heartstrings, watching that again. Nothing new to me, though.

And then I saw the soldiers congregating in a circle, surrounding the last two remaining people (aside from my child-self). Ryou and Marik stood back to back, slowly rotating, taking in all the soldiers. They advanced, spears and swords thrust into their midst, and they recognized defeat. Embracing each other in one last comfort before death, the soldiers attacked. Spears gouged into their faces, swords sliced their abdomens, necks pierced with arrows from a bow. I gasped and placed a hand on the glass in front of me, as if I could reach out to them. As they clearly died, torches were stuffed into their open mouths, slowly setting them on fire inside and out. The soldiers left, as the corpses burned, filling the air with the scent of burned life and dead hopes.

My face grew pained as I watched the two people I cared about disintegrate into nothingness. "It was your fault. All of this was your fault." Zorc's voice echoed about the hourglass, which I began to take more notice of. In my desparation to see out and losing myself in the memories and sights, I did not realize how high the sand had filled. I was buried in sand up to my elbows, with more falling quickly around me.

"No!" I called, pressing against the glass with thin hope. I was trapped. There was no getting out. The sand quickly filled, and soon only my head remained above the deadly mass. I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the worst. I was buried, and I sank to the bottom of the hourglass, face in my hands, trying not to breathe. Sand shoved its way through my nose and into my lungs, and I slowly felt myself suffocating. Abandoning any notions of survival, I opened my mouth and screamed, buried, alone.

The bottom of the glass broke and I fell. The villiage was no longer below me. Nothing was. I fell through nothingness. Twisting about to see above me, I couldn't even make out the hourglass anymore. I was entrapt in cold nothingness. I soon grew unaware of time. I didn't know if I had been falling for two seconds, two minutes, two hours, two days. I just knew I was falling and couldn't stop myself. I gasped in lungfulls of the bitterly cold air, sand evaporating somehow. My cloak fell away, as did my golden necklaces and jewelry, leaving me only in my tunic.

I fell hard and fast, at this point _wanting_ to hit the bottom. Nothingness and no point in coming back, why should I? I let my eyes drift shut, and my body went limp, the blackness swallowing my consciousness.

I had only fainted apparently, because I came to a time later. My perception of time was still fuzzy; it could have been years later for all I knew. I slowly let my awareness gather the state of my surroundings. I was in a standing position, yet somehow suspended in the air, for I felt no ground beneath me. With every breath I managed, my ribs pained me, and my arms grew weak. My wrists… ankles… there was something wrong. I twitched my leg and felt a weight being pulled and heard gentle clinking. Attempting the same for my wrist, I noticed I couldn't move it at all.

My eyes opened and I took in my current situation. I was restrained in mid air by chains on my arms and legs, no ceiling in sight. Around me was blackness once again, save for a light that shone in a circle around me. I tensed, not knowing what was to happen.

"He is awake." I heard a voice call to my left. I twisted my head trying in vain to see who spoke. I heard shuffling of feet to my right, and I turned my head that way, growing more and more panicked by the second. A hand reached out to my face and grabbed me, forcing me to look straight ahead. A cloaked figure in front of me stood with my face in his hand and a knife to my cheek. I couldn't make him out, but it didn't bother me as much as it should have. I did not fight, knowing any effort to be futile.

As my attention was diverted, my right wrist was unlocked, and grabbed. I couldn't look to my side to see what was going on. "Do you feel good, King of Thieves?" A cold blade was placed gently against my wrist. "Knowing you can't die?" My wrist was slit and I cried out once, pain assaulting my brain and blood pouring out of the wound. "Knowing no matter what we do to you, you will live?" Tweasers slunk through the gushing wound on my arm. "You deserve the pain." I felt as the tweasers pinched tightly around a vein and I tightly shut my eyes. "And you know you deserve it." Slowly the the tweasers retreated from me, pulling the vein out along with it. I felt it sliding out of me, and cried out again.

"You don't care about the millions of lives you've wrecked over the millenia," Something gently brushed against my back as the vein still sickeningly left my body. "Only yourself." I heard a swinging noise and a crack, a sharp stinging pain on my back causing blinding pain. I'd been whipped. "You don't care about your dead villiage," Whip. "Or your so called friends." Whip. "It's always been all about you." The vein was sliced once it was out of me, coupled with another sharp whip, and I screamed. "Do you feel good, King of Thieves?"

I was let go of entirely and my head fell. I controlled myself with extreme self retraint, in agony, mental and physical. Something small and metallic brushed my cheek again. "What's wrong, King of Thieves? Why aren't you smiling? You've gotten everything you could have ever wanted." My hair was grabbed so my face stared up, blankly, into the shrouded hood in front of me. A small knife was at my cheek with medium sized needes. "Perhaps you need help with it."

The knife was placed inside of my mouth and the pointed tip pierced my cheek, ripping the flesh, tearing it open to the edge of my actual mouth. The same was done on the other side, scarring me in a permanent grin. I shrieked in pain. "Shhh… shhhh…" I was silenced as the needles sunk into my lips, restricting my ability to open my mouth.

I could not longer help myself and tears welled in my eyes from the severity of everything I had witnessed and endured. "Justified."

The three cloaked figures stood in front of me, and I looked up weakly at them, my eyes imploring as to who they were, if they would answer nothing else. In unison, they lowered their hoods. It didn't matter which face I looked upon, each face identical. Each face sickeningly familiar to me. Each face, my own.

Somehow expecting this and yet not ready to handle it, I let the blackness wash over me once again, taking me away, hopefully to somewhere, anywhere, away from myself.

"Interesting." Jonathan Crane, wearing his gas mask and carrying a clip board, walked into the arm chair room where he had left them. He had been watching each hallucination, recording what went on in their minds. They were still out cold, having no idea they had never left the room.

The blond was on the floor and in the corner, his arm torn open, face scratched, hands burned. He was tightly clutching one of the cushions from the chair to himself. "…Very interesting …"

The white haired one was draped over both armchairs on his back, eyes open yet unseeing. His wrist had a quickly healing cut, two scars on his cheeks that would probably not fade, and from the blood dripping from his back, presumable lacerations. "Very interesting indeed…"

Crane walked back out of the room, shutting the door behind him, removing the gas mask. He stood momentarily, scribbling down the after effects into his notes. "Doctor?" His head turned, looking to the nurse who quickly approached him with a medicinal cart, ready to take care of whomever was inside. "What happened?"

Crane hummed to himself, writing the last note. "It seems this new drug's hallucinagetic qualities fluxuate, depending on the _type_ of one's fears." He adjusted his glasses with one hand and the other was at his side, loosely holding the clipboard. "The Egyptian's fears were of the emotional and mental sort, causing him to feel helpless in aid of himself and others, physical pain not bothering him so much. Except those bugs; that may have been manifestations of inner rage, I'm not quite sure yet."

The nurse grimaced. "The paler of the two seems to have high mental blocks; even in repeating the utmost torment he had actually experienced, he seemed to barely respond. In a round about way, this resulted in self mutilation, the patient suffering from multiple lacerations and what seem to be future scars."

"Is… there anything I will even be able to do for them?" She looked, uncertain, at the door. "After all that fear, what comes afterwards? Will they live or…" her voice trailed off, unwilling to know the answer.

Crane smiled an almost smirking smile, turning away from her and walking calmly down the hallway to his office, intending to record the results and up the dose for the next unsuspecting people to walk into his building. "At the end of fear: Oblivion."

_End_

**[[A/N:** Wow that was long. Apologies if there have been any errors! Please review, this is my first crossover, and my first attempt at horror. 3 **]]**


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